Adamantine
by theamazingcasper
Summary: The fine line between the world of art and the world of reality...but what is reality?


Adamantine

The scientific term for the radiance that a diamond gives off...adamantine.

I focused hard on that word as I worked diligently on a large blank canvas, I was in my art room. On every wall hung various paintings, drawings and sketches, the sizes varied from fragile miniatures to larger than life canvases that took up about half of a wall. I had made them all, but this one, I promised myself- will be far more beautiful, more elegant, more unique than the rest- it will give off a certain shine- adamantine. I decided it would be a boy. My hand ran lightly over the canvas, lightly, envisioning a story.

I took a deep breath and began to create the character mentally. He would be from the Renaissance era, perhaps a young aristocrat. He would take piano lessons, every week, as it was required of the wealthy to do so. He would like to read novels- kind of like me. In London, where he lived, the homes were magnificent, as was his families manor. Maybe I'd name it Ellingsworth, yes, Ellingsworth Manor, absolutely lovely, somewhere near Kensington Gardens perhaps.

I returned my mind to my character slowly coming to life in front of a marble, white piano. The sound of meloncholy music began to echo through my imaginary livingroom, bouncing gently off of the angel adorned cieling and large glass windows, framed with velvet, red curtains, maybe...drawn aside with adorable bows...before I realised it, I was back in my art room, so obscure in comparisson to the splendid white room I had invisioned...and in front of me, on my canvas, I had created everything just as I had seen it- the marble floors, angels painted on the roof top, harps and all, and the grand piano- grander than any...but something was missing- of course the source of the entrancing music that once again began to flow into my art room. "what's your name?" I whispered, standing once again in the magnifigant living room of Ellingsworth Manor, eyes affixed on the piano that seemed to be playing itself. "Jason-" I said answering my own question. "you are young, perhaps in your teenaged years...", as I said it, he came to life, clear as the setting sun outside of the large glass windows. Fragile fingers, most feminine, graced the keys of the piano, greensleeves echoed far more beautiful than before, but the face of this Jason remained hidden from me by shining hair, about shoulders length and black as the night that was creeping upon us. "your lips, are as rose petals, a soft pink" I said embracing the music. "your heart is kind, although it is sickly...". The music fell to a saddened, slower pace, chilling the

air. A fireplace ought to warm the manor a bit, a fireplace with a brilliant fire, that illuminated the room in a homely glow. "the light compliments your eyes...sapphire, only the most breathtaking, ocean blue" Now my creation looked up at me, a face touched by seraphims, and gave a soft smile. "thank you..." he said in a whispery voice, almost like the wind on a calm, fall day, and I stared, struck silent by the depth of blue that his eyes emitted. Never before had I seen the color...complimented by a loose Shakesperian top, that seemed about twice his size, perhaps his fathers...his face was graced with unnatural youthfulness. he seemes as if he would break if handled too roughly.

I sat beside him, infront of the grand piano and mimicked his skillful playing, the song, I had often practiced on my electronic keyboard, late into the night, it sounded so beautiful now...as if it had finally found what it was missing, somehow I ended up in my art room again, staring at a completed piece of work, and breathtaking it was. Just as I had imagined it, with all the grace of Ellingsworth manor surrounding room, and in that room a piano, and on that piano, my Jason.

About two years passed and during a moving transaction from Maryland to California all of my families belongings were misplaced, lost, and along with them, every one of my pieces...we never found them. Sometimes I think about my Adamantine, that one creation that enlightened the rest, the one that had a brilliance that no other words could describe., and then I think of Jason, What would he say if I told him I had lost his portrait, the portrait that I had loved so dearly. His endearing eyes would probably dimmen, with all the sadness in the world, maybe he would even stop playing his grand piano and turn to face me...but then, would'nt Jason smile, because of that kind heart of his, he would smile and take from his piano stand a pencil, humble in appearance, just an ordinary pencil, and hand it to me. He was the type to smile as he disappeared down the hall and returned moments later with a canvas, all too similar to the one that was taken from me, and hold it infront of him, and knowing him he'd say...perhaps..."we will make it together, everything as you saw it the first time...with only one change..." and perhaps one day when I find it in me to recreate that memory, there will be hung on my bedroom wall a painting. And in this painting would be a marble, white grand paino, elegant, polished tiles, angel adorned cielings and large glass windows, framed with velvet red curtains, maybe drawn aside with adorable bows...and a melody playing, enchanting as always, whilst the full moon emitted against the night sky and casts it's light

on two shilouettes infront of the grand piano, one being the graceful Jason, and the other, a girl, who had only dreamt of visions, who visited him often, always to play a fimiliar tune on the piano keys, and always to leave, just before sunrise. Leaving just enough time to take a quick nap, before heading out to school in the dense cities back at her home.

The End


End file.
